


Halves To A Whole

by Identiaetslos



Series: Nox Trevelyan Collection [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Combat, F/F, First Dragon Age Long Fic Attempt, Fluff, Game Play Drabble, Mass Effect Andromeda Writer Writing Dragon Age, Romance, Violence, crap, total crap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Identiaetslos/pseuds/Identiaetslos
Summary: A fight on the Storm Coast goes horribly wrong for battle couple, Nox Trevelyan and Cassandra Pentaghast. Cassandra stumbles upon Nox's true feelings toward her, causing her to question whether what she feels could be something more.--Note: This is a WIP, so there may be edits along the way





	1. Chapter 1

A game it usually was for Nox Trevelyan and Cassandra Pentaghast, though neither of them cared to admit it to anyone but herself: Who could strike quicker, hit harder, take down an enemy faster. Something borne on the growing number of battlefields, and in the training yards. Their uncanny chemistry wasn't lost to any of their new friends, who often could only stand and watch while the two parried and sliced their way through mobs the way a pair of dancers would a stage.

When the fight was over, the sparring never stopped and neither did the feeling that the Seeker was more than just a companion, and, perhaps, she had been placed so carefully in her life that she was always meant to be there. Nox hadn't said anything outwardly for fear of scaring Cassandra, but she hadn't been shy with the occasional flirt or compliment on Cassandra's beauty or her remarkable personality. Cassandra hadn't shied away. Instead, the Seeker responded with a blush to her usual charcoal demeanor and sarcastic self-abasement. Lately, Cassandra had started to flirt back, and it hadn't been lost to Nox that the Seeker had been going out of her way to pay her attention between furtive glances across the courtyard or when she thought that the Inquisitor couldn't see her reflection in one of the mirrors in her quarters.

Sera had laughed and accused them of flirting more than fighting. Nox had said nothing and let Cassandra satisfy Sera with a blustery response. 

Except this was no training dummy or group of hapless thieves pilfering campsites. Charging along the soggy shoreline side-by-side as always, Nox with her Greatsword clutched in her hands and Cass with her sword and shield ready to pounce, Nox stared into the sky at the raging giant that she guessed could easily peer into her bedroom window at Skyhold. His teeth gnashed and the air under his breath turning the pleasant, familiar smell of the ocean shoreline into the rancid smell of death.

Cassandra didn't seem to notice or care, the blood of the warrior charged upon her chiseled beauty, eyes a flame and calculating when and where to strike.

“You go left, I'll go right,” Cassandra said in a voice that cut through the crashing waves and whipping wind, and into Nox's subconscious. She was good at that, and her voice was probably louder than what Nox registered, but it didn't matter.

Trevelyan nodded and watched the Seeker break away. Something was amiss. The towering giant advanced but took up a defensive posture, his eyes on Cassandra as she gathered her strength. He was waiting. Waiting for her to make a mistake.

Feeling cold blood gush through her veins, Nox shouted, “Move away!”

Penaghast dodged an earth-shattering strike from the beast just as he was slowed by shots from Sera and Vivienne, a few meters away. Nox roared and plunged sword and fire into the beast, eliciting a howl of rage that was still focused on the wrong person. Clamoring along the loose rock, Cassandra let loose with a couple of strikes that left her vulnerable to the incoming attack. Wasting no time, Nox charged between the legs of their foe and shoved Cassandra away violently, absorbing most of the blow, which knocked her hard into a pair of nearby boulders.

“Nox!” Cassandra shouted into the haze of rain, fog, and swirled stars. No pain yet, but there would be some later, Nox mused. Cassandra's face was in hers, rain streaming down her gorgeous angular brow and her hands gentle as she investigated cuts to her face and shoulder, eyes taut with worry. There was blood, but Nox couldn't tell whose. Thankfully, Cass didn't look badly injured, which made Nox smile and touch the Seeker's face.

“You need to fight,” Nox managed, pushing at a momentarily flabbergasted Cassandra Pentaghast.

From beside them, a cry from Sera, turned Cassandra's attention to the bloodied monster who had gathered a boulder in his hands, eyes still fixed on the Seeker. Vivienne had circled around and was doing her best to distract him, but to no avail.

“Go, Inquisitor!” Cassandra cried, shoving at Nox's armor plates.

Salted rain stung at Nox's open wounds, the pain of small cuts and possible broken bones registering more as her vision cleared. Grunting through the discomfort, she gathered the energy of her Anchor.

“I got this,' Nox said to Cassandra.

Nodding in understanding, the Seeker broke from her side, flapping her arms wildly and shouting swear words that Nox had never heard before to keep his focus as though it were at all possible he couldn't love her more. With an unintelligible howl as Vivienne seared his flesh and Sera poked him with arrows, the giant hurled his prize at Cassandra, whose speed and agility kept her moving well enough that it impacted against a wayward boat and splintered it. The Seeker roared in reply, her eyes alight again with the romance of combat and charged.

Mustering all of her strength, Nox parted the sky and rained down upon the beast, who let out a grotesque cry of agonized rage as Cassandra simultaneously plunged her sword into his body. Before departing this life, he staggered took one last look at Cassandra, balled up his fists and slammed down hard on top of her.

“Cassandra!” Nox cried in horror. Releasing tthe monster, he was vanquished to whatever hell it came.

Cassandra was motionless on the rocks as water from the ocean tumbled its way forward, the tide on its way in.

“No no no no...” Nox said under her breath and raced down the shoreline, ignoring the searing sting from the open wounds on her face and the growling ache in her side. This pain was the worst kind. Her mind replayed the last moment of the battle over, nipping at the flesh of an open wound as the blood of losing her dear Cassandra Pentaghast seeped into her mind. So many things she could have done: Stopped Cassandra from advancing, ordered a retreat, charged instead of her, or not used the moment to show off. 

Tears formed around the corner of Nox's eyes as tried not to think about the idea of having to face this nightmare without her, and she dropped to her knees beside Cassandra's body. Vivienne and Sera were trying to speak, but their noises were lost to the ocean and the sound of Nox's worry.

Nox detected the slow rise and fall of Cassandra's chest as she bent over her. She wasn't dead, thank The Maker, but her breaths were labored and there was an alarming gurgle that meant that Cass didn't have a lot of time, and perhaps less than it would take to get her back to camp.

Finally, Nox registered Vivienne and Sera, who had both been shouting at her.

“I have a potion that might help, but we have to act quickly!” Sera said, shoving a vile of some odd colored liquid at the Inquisitor.

“You might want to take some, too,” Sera added after looking over Nox's throbbing, presumably battered face.

“No...” Nox said. She popped the cork on bottle. It smelled like old bile and was enough to make Nox retch. Either Cass was out cold enough that any potential taste wouldn't matter, or she was going to come up swinging. “Seeker...” she whispered, gently touching Cass's shoulder.

Cassandra's head lulled to one side and her breathing picked up for a short moment, but her eyes remained closed.

“Cass...” Nox said more firmly.

Stirring more, Cassandra's eyes fluttered open for a brief moment and she murmured something that wasn't a word that any of them could make out, but it was promising.

“Hey...” Nox offered softly, trying to hold back her emotions, lest she hear it later. “I'm sorry, but I need you to drink this so we can get you back to camp,” Nox cooed.

Cassandra murmured louder and her eyes stayed open longer this time. Tilting the flask to her lips which were stained with blood that Nox was sure was her own, the Inquisitor poured a few trickles into her mouth. Cassandra made a face, coughed and sputtered, blood splattering onto the flask and onto Nox's face. Exhaling, the Seeker muttered a swear word that was directed to both Sera and Nox.

“Can you move?” Nox asked and then turned to Vivienne to ask her to get help, but found she was gone already. A familiar hand against Nox's face turned her attention back to Seeker Pentaghast, who winced as she wiggled her feet. A sigh of relief, and even more so that she was alive.

“Good,” Nox said, offering a smile. Control for a few of those tears wasn't possible any more, even for the Herald of Andraste. She hoped that the spray from the sea disguised it well. Taking Cassandra's hand, Nox held the vile back up to Cassandra, whose face soured in disgust.

Centuries passed between the time help arrived from the camp and the party made their way back to safety. Murmured against the thicket of worry and memories, the healer had given the Inquisitor an uplifting prognosis, but her face told a different story as the Seeker was lifted into the cart they had brought with them and towed back to safety.

Unnerved at either the sight of the broken Seeker, clinging to consciousness as she bounced around in her chariot, or the reddish eyes and nose of a distraught Inquisitor, Sera and Lady Vivienne volunteered to ride ahead of the procession, leaving Nox to look after the woman that had so many times, looked after her.

Oh, it wasn't the first time Nox had come away from a fight with Cassandra's blood on her, or helped patch her up at camp, but this was the first time she had come face to face with the possibility of losing her. Cassandra looked just as scared, and kept her focus as much as she could in Nox's direction. Perhaps less time together in the field was in order, or more time with the dummies. Something to where losing her could never happen.

Nox fought through tears again.


	2. Chapter 2

Praise to The Maker, the rain was letting up and it felt as though the temperature would stay even. Having grown up near the salty sea spray, Nox knew how unpredictable and dangerous it could be. Especially for the vulnerable.

During the final leg of the journey, Cassandra had lost consciousness, which had only made Nox demand that the ambulance go faster. The healer, whom Nox had learned was named Theresa Norick had reminded Nox, as politely as she could muster, that if they were to go any faster it like would mean that the beloved Seeker would get bounced off her trolley and out of this life.

Despite those earlier differences, she happily accepted Nox's arms as she lifted Cassandra into the tent and stoke the flames of the lamps as she helplessly watched the young Norick and an other young woman strip Cassandra of her armor and most of her clothes and press her fingers over her body to feel for injury. It was difficult to see the Seeker reduced and so vulnerable when only a short time ago she had been making idle, violet-laced conversation behind fierce half-smiles that lit the world like dragon fire.

Looking around, Nox tried to find something, anything she could help with, but found only her hands and the sword clattering around against her armor. “I'll um...get more potions,” she offered dumbly and went to the tent flap.

“Inquisitor?” Asked a light voice.

Trevelyan turned around to face the nurse that had come in with Theresa, who was still clutching onto a silvery bladed instrument. “I'm sorry, but we weren't sure how bad it was,” she said bowing her head in apology. “Lady Cassandra is stable. However, her wounds are internal and will need considerable time to heal. We have enough provisions for you to stay, but Madam Norick suggests taking her back to Skyhold when she is up for it. She is going to be fine,” the young woman said with reassurance.

It was some relief. “Is she awake?” Nox asked, advancing on the bed that Cassandra was still on.

The young woman shook her head. “It's best if she sleeps for a while. I can notify you when she wakes.”

“I'd like to stay with her.”

Looking nervously at Madam Norick, the healer bowed her head slightly, a knowing look upon her face. Even though Nox estimated Theresa to be not much older than she, there were a lifetime of experiences behind her hard brow and terse jaw that the Inquisitor was more than positive could see through any facade she could erect to try and hide how much the Seeker meant to her.

“The greatest medicine is the elixir of love,” the healer quoted. Nox recognized it as a passage from one of Varric's books and it made her smile. “Herald of Andraste or not, your friend has had an ordeal and bodies need time to mend. She will have plenty of time for you later. If we get any more visitors, you will need to stay in your quarters.”

To that, Nox could agree and acknowledged the house rules to the Madam with a respectful bow of her head, which elicited an amused smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Dull pain pierced through the soupy veil as though her head had been forced into a vice by some snarling, laughing, obsequious fat pig of minor nobility, sausage fingers sat on hamburger hands as he turned the wheel, crushing Cassandra Pentaghast's skull in a horrible torture that she only revisited in the worst of nightmares. She cried out in pain only to have the Pig laugh harder, the sound of his voice breaking across the sky like some high pitched mockery that stole the breath from her lungs and left only icicles.

Anthony's face filled her vision and he reached out, a hand that shouldn't be, but was, and so real, pulling on her to free her from the vice, but as the Pig laughed more and tightened the jaw around her head, the farther Anthony was ripped away.

Cassandra cried with rage, the breath searing at her flesh as though she were being ripped apart, grabbing each side of the vice and pushed to free her head as she watched Anthony fall farther and farther away. Turning to the Pig, she cried out to him, yelling every single expletive she knew even though it all came out as nonsense, tears streamed down her face and colored her vision violet.

Suddenly, a curtain behind the Pig was pushed aside and Nox Trevelyan burst through, kicking through the chair of the Pig with a hard, metal boot heel as she always did, chiseled brow dark with a rage that Cassandra had only seen once, and her heart leaped to see again.

The Pig tumbled off his throne, ass over elbows. The Herald of Andraste wasted no time, raising her bloodied Greatsword over her head and plunging it through the helpless body of her torturer.

Where Anthony had once been, Nox was now, her handsome, broad features stretching into a boyish grin that never failed to tear at Cassandra. With the press of the Inquisitor's cool lips to her aching forehead, the Seeker felt her heart skip and she was released not only from her restraints but the dark terror that had surrounded her. Instead, she found herself in the respite of the tall grass and wildflowers of the Hinterlands, the pain gone.

Above, there were only clouds passing by. No Rifts, no cursed Mages or Templars, no ominous feeling despite the cheery waving of the trees and petite flowers. No frowns or scars marking the face of her gentle hero, and they did not wear armor for once. At last, everyone was free. Nox was free. She was free. Free to be looked at in that playful way that Nox looked at her when she secretly hoped would end with Nox kissing her.

Unable to resist the giddy feeling in her chest, Cassandra let out a giggle when Nox took her hand.

_“I dreamt a dream tonight,” Cassandra said. It wasn't what she meant to say. The words were forced._

_“And so did I,” Nox replied, her eyes filled with passion._

_“What was yours?” Cassandra found herself asking._

_“That dreamers often lie.”_

_Nox's face darkened and her eyes flashed of malice as the sky turned red._

_“Demon!” Cass shouted._

Her eyes flew open and for a moment, the raw power of the nightmare brought forth unexpected tears that she didn't want and she dared not show. It took Cassandra a moment to realize that she lying on the ground and on her back. Only the sky was beige and twinkled in the dancing light of a flame. It was too big to be her quarters, or Nox's quarters...as if she would ever share the Inquisitor's tent. Was it real? It felt like it, but then again, so did Nox a minute ago.

Drawing in breath to center herself through a whispered prayer, Cassandra was greeted by excruciating pain that she could only express with agonized sounds that she kept quiet for fear that the Pig might be back or that Demon that had either possessed her or the Inquisitor would know she was badly hurt.

Carefully, so as not to disturb anyone that might be around, she decided to test the limits of her mobility by leaning to her left. It hurt, stabbed, but wasn't unbearable, she decided, wincing as her eyes settled on the sandy fuzz that speckled the back of Nox's head, resting on a pillow on the bedroll next to her, wrapped in her usual bear skin blankets. The sound of her hoggish snore rumbling through the tent, matching the steady rise and fall of her flanks, comforting the Seeker with the realization that Nox was alive and merely asleep. Part of her troubled over the idea that the handsome Inquisitor was being bothered by the same apparition that tried her.

Regardless of her own physical condition, the safety of the Inquisitor was paramount. Gritting her teeth through the pain, Cassandra moved closer to the edge of the bedroll, stopping before a collection of potion flasks which were huddled in a group near her head. She one, the sight of it calling back memories of something grotesque that she blamed Sera on. It turned Cassandra's stomach, but this would be a necessary evil. Down it went, and nearly came immediately back up. It still tasted like shit, but it was a sugary shit instead of just plain shit. Clearly the medical staff in this camp, or perhaps one of the others, was trying to make an effort and one that she had no choice but to be grateful for.

In the meantime, the mission, and Nox were more important than what silly ailments were plaguing the Seeker. Growling at her stomach as it still protested against the alien liquid, and her chest as it throbbed, she scooted onto the cool, damp grass of the tent toward the broad, muscular backside of Nox Trevelyan who let out a loud snort and seemed to flail her arm under her blanket.

Maker, it was worse than Cassandra thought. Hurrying wasn't completely out of the question, but it was harder than the Seeker wanted it to be. As she neared, her progress was stopped again. This time it was by a small, leather-bound book that lay open in the grass not far from Nox's bedroll and directly in front of Cassandra's eyes. The Seeker smiled at the idea of the Inquisitor falling asleep to the companionship of a good story.

One of the things that the Seeker liked most about Nox was her love of literature. Specifically, the sort of literature that Cassandra liked to enjoy in private. It turned hard rides into enjoyable ones. Often with the Inquisitor delighting her with a smile that her heart basked in. It hadn't always been that way. Ever since their return from Val Royeaux, a change had occurred with the way Cassandra saw Nox, and the way Nox saw her seemed to have changed as well. Before, it had been argument with amused flirting lightly dusted with sugar. Since that day, argument turned into encouragement, and the flirting was coated with a thick, warm molasses that radiated through Cassandra in a way she didn't want to understand. Propriety dictated that this was certainly not a subject to be broached with the Inquisitor, regardless of how Nox might feel. Cassandra's own feelings didn't matter. Ending the war and risking the Inquisition wasn't worth the selfish satisfaction that might come with the reality of Nox gripping her with the same strong, steady hands that gripped her Greatsword. A thought that sent color to Cassandra's cheeks, and a dull ache to her thighs. Exhaling, Cassandra sought to focus her energy on something that wasn't impure thoughts about being seduced by the Herald of Andraste.

On closer inspection, the book in question was not one of Varric's salacious tales, but appeared to be a journal. Cassandra had never seen Nox with it, nor had her companion mentioned that she kept one. Cassandra's attempt at focusing were lost as her eyes traveled over a beautiful, exquisitely detailed charcoal portrait of her own likeness. The Seeker had been drawn looking away, a small smile upon her face that the Cassandra only remembered wearing through other people's accusations. It was a stolen moment that had been filled with such care and devotion that the Herald of Andraste might as well have sketched a feeling, and, in fact, she had. Underneath the portrait was a caption in Nox's impressionistic handwriting: _I love you._

Panic gripped the Seeker. This was all so wonderful and beautiful, but so horribly misguided. She glanced at tuft of dark hair on Nox's delicate, gracious head. Love? Surely, the she had been driven mad. Perhaps by that awful demon. Why this page had been laid open was a question. Cassandra's mind swirled with a cacophony of thoughts, answers to her questions, and her own confused feelings; mysteries that could only be solved by the sleeping woman.

Reminding herself that none of this was for her to know until her sweet Inquisitor was ready to tell her, if she would be at all. It was also an invasion her companion's privacy. 

Gently, closing the book and moving it away, Cassandra resumed her quest to ensure that Nox was safe. “Inquisitor,” Cassandra whispered to the shaved neckline, moving close enough that Nox's familiar scent was on her nose, distracting her with the idea that she now had the answers to an important question. 

_Not why you're here,_ Cassandra scolded herself. “Inquisitor,” she said again, more loudly to the back of the sleeping head.

A loud snore was her reply, but the body stirred. Setting her jaw and willing her heart to calm itself, the Seeker lifted an arm that trembled from weakness caused by her injuries to touch the Inquisitor's shoulder and then thought better of it. Knowing her to be just as ferocious a warrior as she and twice as paranoid, a potential violent reaction would only make her injuries worse.

“Nox!” Cassandra called in a hushed tone, but loud enough that could carry over the voice of any demon.


	4. Chapter 4

Nox Trevelyan's eyes opened to the wall of the tent and the sound of light rain pattering against the leather. Reaching for the last memories of where she had just been, she only had some vague notion of it being some place good. Some place forgotten. Happy. Like the meadows of the outer farms just outside Ostwick that she remembered walking through, palms out so at least her fingertips could enjoy the tickle of the wild rye flowers as they brushed past. It seemed so long ago. It was. A voice had been there, a familiar, smoke-filled melody that filled her heart like the jasmine as she said her name. Not her mother, or her sister. Someone more intimate.

Cassandra.

Nox rolled over and felt her heart skip as Cassandra stared back at her with an expression of soft amusement.

“You're awake!” The Inquisitor exclaimed in a whisper, forgetting about the cuts and bruises still mending about her face. None of them tore but they ached. It was worth it. Realizing that Cassandra had been trying to get her attention this whole time, and the fact that she had again used her name, Nox smiled. “That's twice now you haven't called me, 'Inquisitor,'” she teased.

Cassandra's expression darkened, a frown meant to disguise a blush. “I had to get your attention somehow,” she said defensively. “You were sleeping sound enough that a dragon could have passed through here and you wouldn't have noticed.”

Always with the dry humor. Thank The Maker. “I was somewhere else,” she said with an apologetic face.

“That's what I was worried about.” Cassandra said.

The Seeker's gentle hand went to the bruises and bandages, doting as she often did after a fight, those exquisite hazel eyes mending the Inquisitor together without a stitch. Her hands felt different tonight. She caressed more than she did investigate, her eyes inward and questioning as she brushed past the remnants of stitches upon Nox's lower lip, her eyes flickering for a moment as if discouraged by the wound.

“I shouldn't do that...” Cassandra apologized, withdrawing.

Nox became aware that she had been holding her breath. “It doesn't hurt.” A lie, but it was harder to concentrate on the physical ache than it was the one in her heart.

A half-smile stretched on Cassandra's face, but there was something else behind her eyes. Not regret, but a question of something else troubling her that Nox was afraid to ask about.

Nox wondered how much potion Cassandra might have had, and if that could potentially be clouding her judgment. Not that it was totally farfetched that she might be thinking of something...else, but it had never been talked about. Idle flirtations and stolen glances were one thing, but acting on an impulse, no matter if shared or not, was something different. It would change everything, and so far, Nox had enjoyed the time she shared with the Seeker and the fact that they fought so well together. The idea of Cassandra not being at her side over a misunderstanding was far too great a risk than the idea of leaning over and doing what it looked like Cassandra wanted to do. It would also be wildly inappropriate for her to act on any feelings if Cassandra was still under the influence of one of the potions.

There would be time to discuss this...whatever was happening, Nox decided, shoving her thoughts aside. Now was the time to understand why Seeker Pentaghast had found it necessary to risk further injury by crawling here from her bedroll, and the fact she was lying on cold, damp grass.

Rising, Nox gestured to her own bedroll. “Here, you sleep on mine tonight. I'll sleep on yours.”

Cassandra looked confused and let out a sigh that Nox wasn't entirely certain was frustration or disappointment. Perhaps both, she mused. “No, I'm perfectly fine,” she said stubbornly.

Expected. “No, you're not,” Nox said evenly. “I'll not have you freeze to death beside me during your sleep,” Nox paused as she grabbed the bedroll, her words hitting her along with the image of Cassandra near death on the shore earlier. Blinking back tears, she turned back to the Seeker to find that she had slid onto her bedroll without further question, her face contorted as if she had shared the same thought.

“At least you kept it warm for me,” Cassandra joked. She was trying to lighten the mood, and it worked.

Nox laughed as she laid the bedroll down, trying to ignore the fact that it smelled pleasantly of Cassandra, and pushed it as close as she could without it seeming too obvious that she was warm to the idea of sleeping next to her.

Cassandra paid it no mind and moved two of the three bearskin blankets that Nox had been using. “I will take one if that is okay, but you can keep the rest of your inferno.”

Nox laughed softly and sat down on the bedroll. Reaching behind her head, she moved the vials of potion closer to Cassandra. As she did so, her eyes rested on the closed leather-bound journal. It rested in the grass approximately where Cassandra's head had been earlier. Feeling a cold dread wash over her, the Inquisitor had a vague intuition that she had forgotten to close it.

Cassandra had said nothing, but it would explain the change in her demeanor along with the sudden tenderness. Nox's heart skipped slightly as she poured through possibilities. Perhaps the Seeker was being kind, or entertaining curiosity. Or maybe she really felt the same way in return. All of this was silly speculation that fear continued to quiet at the end of Nox's tongue.

“Where were you before you woke?” The Seeker asked, helping fear with its hesitation. Cassandra's face was serious in the way that she often looked when she feared Nox was in imminent danger.

Worried, Nox tried to recall her dream and shook her head at the indiscernible haze. “All I remember was a feeling. Nothing specific.” She laid down and rolled over, facing Cassandra. “Home I think.”

“I've never been to Ostwick. What is it like there?” Cassandra asked, investigative eyes searching as they were trained to do.

“Here, but with seasons,” Nox quipped.

Cassandra's expression turned into wry amusement. “We're only seeing it this month, and the circumstances are unique. When not plagued by Demons, the Storm Coast is lovely.”

“You like the sea.” It was Nox's turn to investigate. Perhaps to draw Cassandra out while she looked for whatever it was she was looking for.

“Not when I'm on it, but there is something...romantic when looking at it,” Cassandra responded, hesitating on the last bit and looking pensive.

Having a feeling that Cassandra might be searching for more than one thing, Nox offered a smile. It felt good to talk to Cassandra again. She was always good to talk to, and Nox coveted any reason to have her attention. It was also good to just share information about herself with someone she trusted. “My family owns most of the docks in Ostwick," Nox continued. "Perhaps I can take you when this is over,” she mused just as much to herself as she did to Cassandra.

Cassandra shrugged. “It would be nice to get away. You were at the docks?”

“Windham Flats, the pastureland just to the west. My uncle's farm I think. I used to escape there when the smell of dead fish and politics got too strong.” Nox laughed.

Cassandra looked amused.

“He raised mostly goats, but horses, too. I liked to play with them. He taught me and my sister how to ride.”

“That would explain your riding skills," Cassandra said. "You ride like a soldier, so I assumed that instead of finishing school, you acquired your skills with the Templars.”

“My uncle served in Ferelden, and quite proud of that fact. He was skilled, but my refinement does come from the Templar order.”

“How far along in your Templar training were you?”

“I had just started taking lyrium,” Nox replied.

Color drained from Cassandra's face as though she were afraid of something. “I had a nightmare before I went to you,” she said. “I'm positive it was a demon. I was concerned that it was trying to get to you.”

Nox searched her memories. “I don't remember a demon. What did you see?”

Cassandra's eyes flickered as if to brush away tears. “My brother. He came to me and was trying to rescue me from the Demon who was dressed as a fat Orlesian pig. I tried to get away, but the Demon slaughtered him in front of me, and then you came and saved me. When I awoke, we were back in the Hinterlands, as if we haven't spent enough time there. You were there with me, but it wasn't you, and the hole in the sky was gone, but terror still reigned.”

“I'm sorry,” Nox said quietly.

“Don't be,” Cassandra said defiantly, but was still clearly struggling with her emotions. “I'm glad you are safe.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “It's maddening. As a Seeker, I am trained to not be moved by such things. Demons will try to do whatever they can to weaken you: Play to your fears, your innermost desires, make you complacent. Vivienne likes to say that sometimes the most vile creatures aren't terrifying, but, in fact, the most beautiful. She's not wrong.”

Worry knit across her sharp brow. Nox had never seen her so distraught, but at the same time blushed in realizing that Cassandra had just called her beautiful. 

“You having taken lyrium makes you more susceptible than I,” Cassandra continued. “Before you awoke,” the Seeker continued. “I heard a poem that I hadn't remembered until then:

_I dreamt a dream tonight._  
And so did I.  
That dreamers often lie.” 

Cassandra looked questioningly at Nox. “You said some of these words to me, or well the Demon did, and I said some of them back.

“I recall the poem from a play I saw once in Val Royeaux. A rather puerile piece from the North. The rest of it went:

_In bed asleep while they do dream things true.  
Oh, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you._

“Those were lines spoken by two of the characters and the next was a soliloquy about a fairy that appears in one's dreams, spinning wild fantasies.”

“ _I talk of dreams,_  
Which are the children of an idle brain,  
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy....” Nox quoted.

Cassandra looked impressed for a moment. “Here, I thought the Demon and I were the only ones that knew obscure poetry.”

“Depending on when you saw the play, I might have seen it about the same time,” Nox said recalling dressed in some frilly frock that her mother had shoved her in, sitting next to a smelly, sweaty son of Arl Terengot.

“Wouldn't that be a coincidence: Another thread in The Maker's tapestry revealed. You having seen the play around the same time I did to help protect us against a Demon that invades our minds to show us horrors.” Cassandra's voice was joking, but there was a seriousness behind it.

“I always took that passage to mean that sometimes what we see in dreams isn't real: Our mind plays tricks on us. For what reason, sometimes it's just to entertain, frighten us, or tell us something we already know,” Nox said, turning serious.

“You sound like Cole,” Cassandra said, lifting a sharp brow.

“Sometimes he makes sense.”

“Now, you're scaring me.”

Nox sighed and steeled herself as she prepared a confession. “Sometimes, when we get close to one of those Rifts, I hear things.”

Cassandra's face flickered in curiosity and concern. “What kind of things? Voices?”

Nox shrugged. “I don't know. It's like a song, but no one is singing. It's hard to describe. Do you ever hear it?”

“No,” Cassandra replied, her brow knotting. Underneath the blanket, she took Nox's hand. “You mustn't be tempted by it. I can show you some exercises when we get back that will help. I also want you to talk with Cullen and one of the mages. Vivienne or Solas would be my choice if you were to ask me. They can teach you a few things that will help.”

Nox nodded and squeezed Cassandra's hand reassuringly. She looked over at Cassandra who met her gaze. In addition to concern and fear, there was a dark contortion that only physical pain could leave. Whatever potions she had taken were most certainly wearing off.

Releasing the Seeker's hand, Nox propped herself on an elbow and reached behind her head, uncorking a flask.

“No,” Cassandra protested shaking her head. “I'm fine. Please, no more.”

“Just a little bit more to get you through the night. Vivienne will be back soon to look you over.” Nox held the flask to Cassandra, who took it in her hand with a growl.

“I'm beginning to think she scraped the ass end of my horse and just shook it up in some seawater just to spite me.” Cassandra drank and gagged in doing so.

Unable to resist a chuckle, Nox took the flask and set it back in the grass behind her head before lying down on her back. “Why would she do that?”

Cassandra snorted and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Before these times, the Orlesians would invite me to these...functions. It's worse than these fucking Rifts, because you can't just wave your hand at it and make it go away. I did my best to remain out of it, hoping they would just ignore me. But no. Instead, they saw me as a trophy. Madame de Fer knows I don't care for The Game or the pigs of various shapes and sizes that love to roll around in it. Orlesians express their intentions by greasing their words with meaningless platitudes while they manipulate behind your back, starting with something delightfully petty,” the last sentence was dipped in dry sarcasm that made Nox only adore her all the more.

“And you want me to see her when we return to Skyhold?” Nox asked in amusement.

“Sadly, I can only suspect. It may be that this potion is meant to taste like shit. Potions often do. Even if it is her doing, she is still a First Enchanter, and a skilled one at that. I am also not ready to trust you to a Tevinter mage, no matter how close you are to him.”

“Okay,” Nox said, relinquishing trust to the woman that had, but a few hours ago, seemed to cling to life. Despite whatever smart retort she had, or comment about the idea of requiring her permission to seek Dorian for advice, Cassandra was someone she had quickly learned to never second guess. Her intuition was usually the correct one. She wondered if this is how it had been with the Divine: Right hand to a body, moving as though The Maker had always intended it this way. Perhaps He had. She also wondered if Justinia ever laid in a tent, talking for hours with her Seeker, relieved to have her again at her side. Smiling at the fact that Cassandra was mere inches away and lying on her bedroll, Nox rubbed the bridge of her nose.

It ached slightly having been punched earlier, which caused her to remember the conversation about politics. Even though Ostwick was far from Orlais, the machinations of politics weren't dissimilar. Possibly adopted from the Orlesians, Nox mused, though there was still the good old fashioned fisticuffs in the parlor when things got too heated. Recalling such occasions, Nox couldn't help a soft laugh.

Cassandra lifted a quizzical brow. “What's so funny?”

“I remembering how I first broke my nose,” Nox explained. “I was maybe fourteen and been forced to attend one of my mother's idiotic Summer Bazaars. One of the families my mother liked to invite were the Torianis. Not quite nobility, but wealthy enough that they were people you didn't forget to invite. I hated them. The father was a boorish windbag that, unfortunately, passed his shitty behavior onto his sons, the oldest of whom liked me and hated that I didn't like him back.

“Anyway, the topic around the dinner table happened to be over a labor dispute that one of the merchant guilds had started. As more wine passed through the evening, the discussion got more and more colorful until it got personal. At least to me. You see, at the time, I um...I had...is courted the right word? I don't know...well, things had happened between me and one of the kitchen girls,” Nox couldn't help a blush as she spoke, Cassandra's face growing more amused. “Meanwhile, I am listening to this...pig--I'll use your word since it suits him just fine—go on about Maline and people like her. I felt sick, so I asked to leave.

“The Piglet's name was Sam and, of course, he had to follow me to wherever I wanted to run to. I made the mistake of making eye contact with Maline when she came in. He made a comment and moved like he was going to go for her and well...” Nox shrugged.

“You hit him and he broke your nose?”

Nox nodded. “Return shot I failed to block.” She laughed. “I offered him the chance to duke it out like proper Ostwickers, but he refused, stating that he was satisfied that 'I'd never get a man with that nose.' My father never did get the dent of Sam's face out of my mother's prized silver tea kettle.”

Cassandra couldn't help a laugh and then winced again.

“You should sleep,” Nox said.

Shaking her head, the Seeker gave her a look. “If I keep you talking, there's less of a chance of that Demon returning.”

The response was so atypical of Cassandra, Nox wasn't sure whether she was serious or being humorous again. Deciding to test her a bit, Nox ventured a humorous, “afraid to sleep?”

Cassandra lifted another shapely eyebrow and made a noise. “I used to go to bed in my Uncle's house with Spirits drifting about making all sorts of sounds: Howling, screeching, singing, talking endlessly. My concern isn't for myself, it's for you.” She turned her head. Her eyes were glassy signifying a potion-induced sleep lurking just behind.

“I'll be all right, Cass. I'd like to think The Maker watches us tonight. He brought you back just in time to see it and chase it away, and I am here now just in case it returns for you." Nox flexed her arm which was enough to make Cassandra's eyes roll. "Would you like me to tell you another story?”

Humor worsened along the violet features of the Nevarran woman, and she defiantly said, “yes,” before her face turned serious again. “About that servant woman you spoke of. When did you know you liked women?” Cassandra asked, seeming shocked by her own question.

Nox shrugged. “I've always known.”

“And you don't think about it?”

Nox couldn't help a laugh. “I always think about women.”

Color rose in Cassandra's cheeks, but she avoided eye contact. “I mean the fact that you like them.”

“It's like breathing or liking the scent of a flower, it just is,” Nox said to the top of the tent. “The only time I think about it is when other people make me think about it.”

“That was rude of me...” the Seeker apologized.

Nox took a deep breath: Another confession. “I didn't just escape to my uncle's farm, I was sent to live there,” she admitted, looking over to see a wide eyed Cassandra searching her face. “My mother caught me with that same serving girl about the time I got into that fight. The fact that she was elven I think made it worse, but she was so enraged by the idea of me being with another woman. My uncle was more kind, but kept a watch on me so I wouldn't be tempted to run off with another girl. I haven't spoken to them since.”

“I shouldn't have asked,” Cassandra apologized again.

From underneath the blankets, Nox took Cassandra's hand and felt her breath catch when the Seeker laced her fingers in between hers. “I...um...joined the Templars as soon as they would let me,” the Inquisitor continued with a reassuring lift to her dark eyebrows. “My uncle put in a good word, and so did my father after he learned I intended to, at least, honor the family that way. They tried to convince the Knight-Captain to continue their quest to see me off with some handsome man, but he just looked the other way. Before...this,” Nox gestured to the chaos outside the tent, “I had struck up relations with one of my Lieutenants: Ulena Horingard.”

“Bann Horingard's daughter?” Cassandra asked with an amused smirk that faded. “She was at the Conclave. I remember seeing her.”

Nox nodded solemnly. “And then I awoke to find you.”

For a moment, the Seeker's face was ashen. “And on top of it, I was yelling and swearing at you like a madwoman.”

“I thought for sure that the Maker had sent me to you to let His thoughts be known about my illicit affair.”

Cassandra snorted and then sighed, a look of trepidation crossing her face for a moment. “Sending me to scold you about your relationship with another woman. I'd like to think that the Maker doesn't care about such things. Certainly not to cause such death and destruction, or to send a Seeker of Truth to deliver such a message," she said, looking thoughtful. She yawned and adjusted her hand. Those flashing eyes flickered as Nox became aware that she had been rubbing Cassandra's thumb. To her delight, the Seeker didn't pull away, but glanced at Nox's lip once more.

“In Nevarra," Cassandra continued, her voice softening as she searched Nox. "Such things are seen as nothing more than a dalliance. The Pentaghasts cling so hard to their noble blood that if it doesn't produce an heir, it's not worthy of being celebrated; one isn't cast out, but one is certainly admonished. Like you, my youth was spent being offered to young men of various assortments, and those were the only images of love and family I ever saw until I started serving The Divine. After Justinia, I saw all different types of life that I never thought possible. When you are so used to seeing it one way...” her voice drifted off and she let the rest of that thought die on her tongue and in another confused glance.

“I understand,” Nox replied.

Cassandra's face contorted thoughtfully as she either decided or decided against admitting something. “I don't know,” she said finally, but squeezed Nox's hand confusingly. “I admire women. All of Thedas owes its sanctity to women...and that includes you," she said, the last bit said tentatively. "Leliana likes to tease me, and suggests that my feelings aren't what I say they are. She's like you. She likes to make fun of me about a great many things just to see me get angry.”

“That's because you're cute when you're angry.” Nox couldn't help the flirt. Her heart pounded.

“There is nothing cute about making me angry,” Cassandra's expression darkened, but there was humor to the curl around her lips that Nox chose to ignore. “Of course I would forget who I was talking to,” she said sarcastically, mostly to herself. Even though she faced away, affording Nox the chance to admire the graceful nape of her neck, Cassandra still did not let go. She hadn't admitted to anything. She had certainly looked uncertain enough that the subject was worth not pursuing any further, nor did Cassandra seem to offer further conversation. Whether or not Cassandra had seen her confession would be left to the falling rain and what was left of the darkness. Only time would tell, and for the sake of her own heart, it would be better left to its graces, along with whatever else the Maker had in store.

Nox detected another yawn from the Seeker and after a few short moments, her right hand finally lost the war between herself and the potion.


	5. Chapter 5

This time it was Nox’s turn to get lost in a nightmare. Perhaps there was some truth to what Cassandra said: A demon lurking around this battered land.

She hadn’t remembered getting up, but she was outside, yet still in the camp. Rain splattered against her armor and into her face while wind whipped the canvas tents. They were empty; no one was here save for her.

In the distance, the Breach swirled, creating a violent sea that seemed to snarl at her, creating darkness, even though it was the middle of the day.

Reaching for her sword, she was comforted when she felt the solid hilt, and pulled it from its scabbard. Where was everyone? Where was Cassandra? Panicked, Nox batted at the tent flap where they had been: Empty. Cassandra was in no condition to run let alone fight whatever this terror had to throw at them.

“I’m not afraid of you!” Nox shouted at the breach, at Corypheus. She knew he lurked. This was his torment. Like all the others he would fail: He wouldn’t take her, and he couldn’t have Cassandra or the others. She would fight him until the last.

“But you are, my child.” It was a voice of a woman. Someone she recognized.

Approaching the precipice at the edge of the camp, Nox suddenly saw her dressed in Chantry robes that looked just as drenched as the rock she sat on. Lightning flashed on cue and the wind whipped at her clothes, as if in one of Comte de Michorette’s shitty plays that were too chintzy for Val Royeaux.

“Justinia?” Nox asked of the woman.

She lifted her head, revealing the face she recognized from the paintings inside the Ostwick Circle and in the Fade.

“Come sit, my dear...” she said calmly, despite the storm. Justinia patted the rock, and suddenly there was room for two.

Nox sat and gazed into Justinia’s eyes. She looked at ease, confident, and gazed at Nox in a motherly fashion that seemed to pick her apart faster than this storm could ever. Idly, the Inquisitor wondered if this was the woman that both Cassandra and Leliana saw. No wonder they admired her. She was so disarming. Feeling overwhelmed by everything suddenly, Nox collapsed into Justinia’s arms and cried.

“It’s okay,” Justinia soothed and petted Nox’s head. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

Nox lifted her head to look at her, but she was swept away in the wind, replaced with Cassandra.

“What are you doing here?” Nox asked.

“Shh. Be still my child,” Cassandra said, smoothing her hands across Nox’s face and kissing her forehead. She felt good. How in love Nox was, how glad she was to have her back and safe.

“We have to get out of here,” Nox urged and rose. Collecting her sword and taking Cassandra by the hand she turned to move farther down the hill, but Cassandra resisted. “Now’s not the time to be stubborn,” the Inquisitor heard herself say angrily.

“You have to let me go to live,” Cassandra pleaded. Her face had changed to the black and white charcoal sketch in Nox’s book and then morphed again, swirled in red and eyes sunken with a corruption she fought but was killing her at her soul.

The clifftop changed to a castle she’d never seen before, but she knew to be the one in Denerim. She stood in a great hall that had once been decorated with paintings and stone monuments to mabari and warriors long past. Somewhere in this room had been Anora’s throne, but it, too, was gone. Laughter coated the walls like soot and flame, spires of red lyrium snaked through the rafters and high into the heavens.

“Nox...” Cassandra pleaded again. Her arm felt weak and blood poured from her mouth.

“No!” Nox cried. Tears ran from her face as she caught the Seeker before she fell.

At the end of the great hall she stood in the door was kicked open and in walked a pair of demons, clutching Cassandra at her collar and discarded her lifeless body.

Nox cried from her soul as she lifted her sword. She was afraid.

“She’s mine now!” A voice snarled.

Nox snapped awake.

It took her a moment for her to realize that she was and where she was. Rain pattered down on the top of the tent, but it wasn’t the torrent she’d seen a minute ago. A daylight of milky clouds peaked through the seams as did the smell of ocean spray mixed with damp grass, and the warmth smell of the Seeker.

Cassandra was still on her back, but had curled toward Nox during her sleep. Her fingers were still laced with hers and her face rested on her arm, a spot of drool dampening her shirt. She was still alive, thank the Maker.

“It was just a dream...” Nox whispered, still partly unconvinced and brushed Cassandra’s hair off her forehead. Everything looked normal. No signs of corruption, no trouble anywhere on her brow. She slept soundly and it was hard for Nox not to lean over and kiss her.

The Seeker stirred and opened her eyes.

“Hi...” Nox said gently.

“Oh.” Cassandra said startled and moved away. “Sorry, I didn’t know I...” She looked down at the drool stain. “Maker...I’m so sorry,” she apologized again brushing Nox’s arm.

“Good morning,” Nox offered with a laugh, trying not to feel a measure of pain at Cassandra’s reaction. It was good to have her here, and it was good she was alive. Not the horror she saw. Remembering the scene from her nightmare, Nox turned away herself and sat up. Seeing Cassandra in a lifeless heap on the ground, discarded, that had been a few days ago, not just in a nightmare. How close she had been, and now demons circled like carrion birds. Staying her wasn’t an option, and neither was the foolishness that had her here in this tent.

“Morning,” Cassandra said cautiously.

Nox felt a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Cassandra asked.

Swallowing her emotions, Nox shrugged Cassandra’s hand off and turned to her. “Nothing,” she lied. She smoothed a hand across her dark red hair and looked around for her kit. Most of it was on a nearby chair.

Almost on cue, the tent flap opened and the surgeon, her nurse, and Madame de Fer entered.

Nox breathed a sigh of relief at the interrupted and collected herself.

“How are you feeling?” Madam Norick asked of Cassandra and immediately went to her side.

“Do you really have to do this now?” Cassandra protested.

“Yes, M’Lady. Enchanter Vivienne worked magic--” Norick giggled. “--but your body is still mending. Let’s have a look at you.”

Cassandra made a noise.

Nox kept her back turned as she slowly put on her armor pieces, but she could feel Cassandra’s bewildered eyes on her, and chose to ignore it. Doing so stung, but this would be for the better.

After dressing, the Inquisitor rose to her full height, which towered over Madam Norick and her nurse, and stood nearly even with Vivienne. The First Enchanter had stopped working on a half naked Cassandra and met Nox’s gaze evenly as she held out the small book that had been lying in the grass just above Cassandra’s head. Madame de Fer’s face said more than Nox wanted to address in this moment, but it was clear that she knew what was on those pages.

Wordlessly, Nox took the book back and pocketed it. “Madam Norick,” Nox said finally. “Please get Seeker Cassandra ready to move. We’re returning to Skyhold.”


	6. Chapter 6

Even though both Madam Norick and Madame de Fer had decreed that Cassandra was well enough for transport back to Skyhold, Nox chose to err on the side of caution and have her pulled in a covered wagon anyway.

Thankfully, she had the foresight to requisition officers from the nearby Storm Coast regiment and a pair of sturdy wagon-pulling horses, who arrived not a moment too soon.

Sera rode in front to give the party an advantage over any would-be robbers or any other surprises the darkened roads of Ferelden had to throw at them. Nox and Vivienne rode just behind her with the soldiers to the flanks of the wagon and two in the rear.

As they made their way from the Storm Coast, the clouds, blocked by the stony tops of the short mountain range, gave way to a starry night that fanned out over the gentle meadows and gigantic conifer tops as far as the eye could see. With summer waning, a nip in the wind bit at their noses, causing Vivienne to pull up a silk scarf around her nose and mouth that matched the rest of her outfit, and Sera seemed to have fun blowing plumes of frosty air in front of her mouth.

Concerned about Cassandra, Nox had lent her all of her bearskin blankets, and heard the only protest out of her mouth since they’d left. It hadn’t been much of one, and it seemed as though she was trying to preserve the camaraderie she and Nox shared before the awkwardness.

Nox did her best to play along, but found her heart wasn’t in it and left her with little more than a few words. She could feel Cassandra’s hurt and confusion in the back of her mind, but it was really better this way. She’d only lost Cassandra in some imagined fantasy, but reality lurked like the sleeping bats among the boughs.

Having left later than she’d hoped, Nox ordered the caravan to a small town in Ferelden called Ladfen, or the remnants of it. From what she remembered of Josephine’s crash course in Ferelden history, Ladfen is or was nothing more than a farming hamlet, but had been sacked more than any other settlement in all Ferelden. Since the Blight, the residents, as stout as their Nation, had set to work rebuilding as they always did and to their fortune, some lamps remained lit as they approached.

Since Ladfen was small, there wasn’t much of an Inn to speak of. More like a whiskey trough with some stables, but it was shelter and the inn keeper, recognizing Inquisition colors as well as a the Right Hand of the Divine, was more than willing to spare what he had.

Nox made sure that he was compensated well for his trouble. One more spy for Leliana wouldn’t hurt either; he was non-committal in his words, but his eyes spoke another language. Vivienne had volunteered to accompany her as an experienced negotiator, and while she hadn’t approve of the sum of money Nox decided to give him, she did approve of her attempt to recruit him.

“Rustic,” she commented on the return, “but he’s a sharper eye and an even sharper tongue than he lets on. Nicely done, My Dear.”

“How do you figure?” Nox asked and stopped just before the corral leading to the inside of the barn.

Vivienne stopped and faced her Inquisitor, the firelight from one of the outside torches catching her soft features in just the right way. She always had a habit of looking as though she were posing for a painting without trying; she and Cassandra had that in common. However, Cassandra was dramatic where Vivienne was not. “On the door above his head was the crown of a Chevalier’s helmet, but not from Meghren’s siege on Ferelden, but from one of the many skirmishes between Ferelden and Orlais during Celeste’s short rule as Empress. However, other, less garish ornamentation inside his home suggest influence from both Orlais and Ferelden.”

“You think the helmet was there to curry favor with Fereldans.”

“Indeed,” Vivienne nodded. “The fact that the helmet was from one of Celeste’s men and not Meghren suggests that he might have collaborated with Orlais when we were here. However, displaying it was meant to curry favor with you, specifically, My Dear. It would explain his neutral attitude toward me, as well as the fact it was askew and had new fingerprints on the Silverite as though he polished it anticipating our arrival.”

Vivienne shook her hand and held her hands out at the tufts of straw laid out before a collection of hastily constructed bungalows. “Look at this place. There’s no money here. Likely, this gentleman is the proprietor of this town, or certainly the closest thing to a Bann that this countryside has seen since the Blight. He needs our coin more than we need him and he knows it. We could easily make camp in the forest, and even with Sera here and Cassandra down, we’re more than a force to be reckoned with. Speaking of...I’m sure she’d appreciate news of your little victory just a moment ago. I’ll let you impart the news.” Vivienne’s voice was purposely soft as was the look in her eye as she lingered a moment before making her way back into the barn and leaving Nox with her thoughts.

She closed her eyes, letting her mind roll around in thoughts of Cassandra and then of Justinia’s words...or whatever that was. Both of them having nightmares, or being taunted by demons was the farthest thing from good, and he was using this friendship—or whatever it was—with Cassandra as a mechanism to distract both of them, divide both of them, from the real mission.

Opening up her journal to that portrait of Cassandra, Nox felt a roil of nausea. “Maker, Nox...what are you? Fourteen?” She growled at herself and tore the page out. Crumpling it up, she threw it into a pile of hay and let out a long exhale, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and wandered back into the barn.

Heeding Vivienne’s suggestion, her first stop was at Cassandra to check on her, and as always, Madame de Fer was correct in that she would appreciate the good news about the innkeeper.

“Oh good, Inquisitor,” the young Corporal greeted as soon as she neared the wagon. “She’s been asking to see you.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” Nox replied and boarded the wagon, pushing aside the tent flap.

Cassandra was well-cushioned by a bunch of pillows and what appeared to be two of Nox’s bearskin blankets, the third wrapped around her midsection. She wore most of her armor, except she was still swollen enough around her midsection that wearing her curass was not advised.

She was sitting up but leaned against the edge of the wagon, doing her best to disguise pain under stubborn bravado as Nox entered. “I didn’t want to sleep without checking in with you,” the Seeker said.

A lantern hung just on the inside of the canvas top, flickering against the night air, casting dramatic shadows across Cassandra’s sharp features and bathing her skin in an angelic warmth.

Suddenly realizing the mission of putting aside her personal feelings was going to be far more complicated than she realized, Nox sat at a respectable distance, facing the older woman. “Sorry. I was busy recruiting the innkeeper for Leliana,” Nox said.

Cassandra’s brows lifted. “Good. She’ll be pleased. We can use all the agents we can get. Especially in a place like this one.”

“You’ve been to Ladfen?”

“Once when I was young. None of these buildings were here; I was just empty wheat fields as far as the eye could see. Really quite beautiful. If I didn’t have a pressing mission, I might have stayed longer to enjoy. Did you know that Sergeant Threnn is from here?”

Nox shook her head. “No. I haven’t had much of a chance to visit with the Sergeant.”

“Oh? You should now that she is in your employ. Fascinating woman, and smarter than I ever took her to be.”

“You recruited her.”

Cassandra bobbed her head and winced slightly. “More or less. Anora is more Leliana’s area of diplomacy, but the Quartermaster position directly serves our army, and thus she was under me and Cullen jointly. At least while we were in Haven.”

“I think everything was under you jointly while we were in Haven.”

The Seeker made a face. “You really love flattering me,” she said flatly in the dry humor that nobody but those closest to her truly understood. “I did what needed to be done. We were bringing the Inquisition up from nothing. If the massacre at the Conclave hadn’t happened, we would have had a framework and not the mess we did have.” She made a noise and looked introspective for a moment. “Without you, we couldn’t have grown out of it, that’s for certain. And that has nothing to do with The Mark. You are decisive when it’s needed, compassionate, faithful, and people look to you.”

Nox blushed. “Now you’re flattering me.”

Cassandra laughed. “Not intentionally,” she made another face, the light catching her in just the right way that Nox considered moving over to her same side. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Nox’s face fell and she let out a sigh. “No. No, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Surely, as the Inquisitor. However, yesterday morning, you looked troubled and since we left, you’ve barely spoken to me.” The Seeker fidgeted nervously. “This is the first I’ve seen of you all day.”

“We’ve been traveling.”

Cassandra made another face. “Madame de Fer said you cried the day I was injured. Yet, now you’re distant.”

“Maybe I think that being so close isn’t such a good thing,” Nox said cautiously. Her heart pounded in her ears. Part of her regretted the words, but they needed to be said. “We fight well on the battlefield yes, but...Corypheus seeks to divide us. He uses weaknesses to gain advantage, which is the last thing either one of us needs.”

“You see me as a weakness?” Cassandra looked hurt.

“No, but I fear my...attachment to you is being used this way. When I was at Redcliffe, I saw things, terrible things that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. One of those things was...your death. You sacrificed yourself so that Dorian and I could escape...” Nox’s voice trailed off and she felt the sting of tears as she remembered the nightmare, the way Cassandra looked bloodied against the rocks.

“I remember you telling me.”

Nox wiped her eyes and sighed as Cassandra patted a spot beside her.

“I can’t comfort you from over here,” Cassandra said. Her voice was light in order to try and cheer her up. Perhaps it was something in Nox’s face that gave her away again, but the Seeker’s expression changed. “You had that specific nightmare again.”

Nox nodded her head. She moved over to Cassandra’s side of the wagon and wiped her eyes. “I feel silly. I’m the Inquisitor. I’m not supposed to let things like that rattle me.”

“You’re still a person. My nightmare rattled me did it not?”

“True.”

Cassandra took a deep breath and regarded her friend. “You told me that in Redcliffe it was Corypheus showing you a future where he had manipulated time and you were never spared at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“Right.”

“If he’s using my friendship with you, he has to be desperate.”

“Maybe if we were fighting an honorable man. Which we’re not. We’re fighting this Darkspawn megalomaniac with delusions of godhood,” Nox joked. “Absolutely our relationship is ammunition.”

“I’ve been afraid of that as well,” Cassandra replied and looked somber. A wide range of emotions flickered across her sharp brow and then the normal, steely-eyed Seeker returned. “Perhaps you are right in that it would be best if we put some distance between us. My only concern is that whoever you take out here, if it isn’t me, I want you to train with them so they know your fighting style as well as I do.”

“Take everything on the chin?”

Cassandra and Nox both laughed.

“Precisely,” Cassandra said after catching her breath. “Maybe someone can teach you something I haven’t been able. Of course, I can’t criticize: Look at me,” she gestured at her body hidden under the bearskin blanket. “Promise me you will afford them the same respect you do me, fight with the same kind of zeal, and don’t take any shit.”

“Since when do I ever?” Nox retorted, glancing at Cassandra. She looked glassy around the edges, but resolute in her decision. Like a goodbye, even though it wasn’t one. The wind had picked up, light from the lantern licked across the canvas and the Seeker. She looked elegant, dark. Seriousness caressed the sharp edges of her face and a contemplative warmth danced behind her eyes. 

Cassandra lingered on Nox’s lips and lifted a tender hand and brushed her thumb across her mouth just as she had before.

Whatever the Inquisitor could say died on the end of Cassandra’s fingertip and she pressed her lips against the pad of her thumb. That was the point wasn’t it? A look across Cassandra’s brow told Nox everything. She held her breath, closed her eyes, and accepted Cassandra in her arms, the press of her lips against hers, timid, unsure, searching.

Surprise, nervousness, shock melded into the feeling of home, belonging. Gone was the fear, replaced by purpose, need, promise.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this...” Cassandra’s voice was airy and shook as she pulled away.

Whatever Nox had to say died on the end of each loud thud of her heart.

Cassandra’s hand caressed Nox’s face and lifted her chin. “Are you all right?” She asked.

“I think that’s my line,” Nox mustered a reply.

Cassandra laughed softly and accepted another kiss from Nox.

This time her kisses were more confident and filled with want. Cassandra’s mouth opened and Nox tasted unspoken words along with the Seeker’s electric touch. As on the battlefield, she matched movement for movement, finding strengths and weaknesses.

Cassandra’s hand slipped around Nox’s neck and pulled her closer while Nox’s hands traveled under the blanket and was pulled underneath Cassandra’s tunic. Her muscles, still wrapped in their bandages, tensed and shook underneath gentle hands. Not too hard, but enough that Cassandra was touched in the way she wanted.

The Seeker made a noise somewhere in between a contented sigh and a wince and moved like she wanted to pull Nox on top of her.

Here? Now? Like this? In a wagon in a remote part of Ferelden with their friends outside, and Cassandra in no condition for any strenuous activity? How would this be tomorrow? The day after? In the field? The earlier conversation seemed so far off, yet it wasn’t, as was the attempt whatever forces were against them to use something so exquisite as whatever this was with her Right Hand as a weapon.

“No...” Nox breathed, pulling away from Cassandra. “Not here. Not like this. And...” she let out a sigh and ran her hand through her hair, her mind going back to the earlier conversation along with memories of the night before and of Maline and Ulena. Both were dead. And what of this one?

Cassandra breathed heavily, her eyes burned with the same fire that pasted her hair to her brow, and had melted every inch of Nox’s soul. She nodded wordlessly.

Kissing Cassandra’s forehead gently, Nox slid toward the exit of the wagon. “I’m sorry, Cassandra. I can’t lose you. Regardless of whether whatever that nightmare was I saw was real or something as simple as my brain playing tricks on me. This can’t happen. I can’t afford to lose you again.” Her voice was panicked and she shook as she climbed back into the cold night before Cassandra could lure her back with a plea. On feet that didn’t feel like hers, she hurried to the back of the camp. Far from her, far from whatever it was that had just happened, but not far away enough from her thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

Cassandra’s heart was a jumble. She stared at the flap of canvas leading outside the wagon. It fluttered as though still under the momentum of Nox’s hurried escape. Emotions that she had never known before tugged at the memory of how the Inquisitor had felt moments ago and her panic.

Surely, she hadn’t meant to cause such a reaction. Nox loved her did she not?

Trying her best to catch her breath and shove her feelings back to where they belonged, Cassandra allowed herself to dwell on all the times that Nox had made a comment here or shoved her there, or how many times had her eyes softened and her breath slowed when Cassandra would throw her to the ground in the courtyard. Or vice versa. Or how many times Cassandra felt the same.

What did she feel? The same love that Nox felt? Or was it attraction? Curiosity?

“I don’t know...” She said aloud to no one and let out a long sigh.

Either way, what happened couldn’t happen again, wouldn’t happen again. Nox was still the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and it was important now, more than ever, that Cassandra remain strong and objective for her. The entire world depended on it.

Nox depended on it.

Sleep was what was needed next, she decided. It would help with controlling whatever it was she felt. Heartbreak, heartache. Whatever it was, hurt.

\- - - - - - 

“Lose something?” Sera’s voice cut through the swirl of thoughts running through Nox’s head.

The Inquisitor hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d volunteered to take the watch while one of the guards slept and stood against another fence post, this time in the empty horse corral.

Cassandra was still on the end of her tongue, in her clothes, inspiring many beautiful drawings even more precious than the one that lay in the grass somewhere. She had no intention of bringing them to life; in her mind’s eye they would remain for when she needed them.

Nox slowly turned around to face her friend. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“You’re not sleeping,” Sera shot and leaned against the fence next to her. “I was finding a pot and found this near one of the horses.” She held out the crumpled bit of paper that Nox identified as her drawing.

“You keep it. It’ll be something comfortable to wipe your as with.’ Nox shrugged and looked away, turning her eyes to a night that seemed to have grown darker.

“I’m not wiping my backside on Cassandra’s face. Especially when it looks this lovely.” Sera smoothed out the paper and looked at it before showing it to Nox. “I’ll never understand you lot. You fall in love but spend all your time and energy pretending you don’t love the person you do love and when they do love you back you insist on not loving them!”

Nox was silent.

Sera’s face was knit with an irritated frown the likes that Nox had never seen. “She loves you, you know.”

“She kissed me.” Nox admitted.

“First one?”

Nox nodded.

“About friggin time! You have any idea the thin slice of hell it is to be terrorized by witchy bitch while watching you two? Wait..she kissed _you_ and you’re out here. What’d you do?”

“Nothing...” Nox sighed in exasperation mostly to herself. “I ran.”

Sera just laughed. “Of all the things...I watched you face down demons and bears and a little woman kisses you and you run in terror. Granted, she is a Seeker, but still. And you have a book full of shite just like this,” she waved the drawing at Nox.

“Wait, how do you kn--” Nox just stopped herself and rubbed her forehead between her fingers. “What do you think I should do?”

“Well...” Sera started and then reached into Nox’s pocket and took out her journal. “First, I would find some way to do this,” she said placing the drawing back on the page it had been torn from. “And then I would give it to my friend Sera, so she can do this:” Sera reared back with the book in her hands and hit Nox several times with it.

“Ow!” Nox exclaimed, cowering as Sera threatened another hit before handing the book back.

“I’m going to bed now,” Sera declared and marched off before Nox could respond.

She was right. Cowardice was what drove Nox out here. What was she afraid of? Loss? Rejection? Being loved? Of all of those, being loved was the one that hurt the most.

“She didn’t hurt you too bad did she?” Cassandra’s voice lifted above the gentle grasstops, floating in the night air like strands of deep violet silk. Under the moonlight, Nox could make out an amused smile as she propped herself just inside the barn door; she looked radiant and for a moment, Nox wondered if this could be another dream.

It wasn’t.

“What are you doing?” Nox asked with alarm approaching her.

“I couldn’t sleep either, and I wanted to come find you.” Cassandra moved like she was going to push off the barn door and Nox rushed to her side.

Taking Cassandra’s hands, Nox forbade her to go any farther with a look.

Hurt from before flickered in Cassandra’s expression and she gently pushed away from the Inquisitor. “You were right. I acted impulsively,” she apologized.

“I liked it,” Nox said plainly, her cheeks coloring.

At that, Cassandra couldn’t help a small smile. “Maybe in another life. When the world doesn’t hinge on our every action. You are the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste. What I want...” Cassandra’s voice trailed off and she looked contemplative. “I’ve never loved a woman before. Fancied, maybe, but not loved. Not like you. It frightens me...not the loving you part but the part...where I love you.” The Seeker looked embarrassed for a moment.

Nox laughed awkwardly and her breath shook as she spoke. “It frightens me too. The loving you part. Cassandra, we fight alongside each other almost daily and I am scared to no end...you are a great lady and deserve all the love I have to give...if this is something you want, I want to do it the right way.”

It was Cassandra’s turn to laugh. “You cannot mean you intend to court me. How would that work? There is no man.”

“I’ll improvise, and I hope you know that means that you’ll have to court me.”

“ _Me?_ ”

“Well, you said it yourself: There is no man.”

Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh and reached out and pulled Nox closer by her belt loops. It hurt to move this way, but her closeness, the way her hands lit small fires where they hadn’t before seemed to soothe any discomfort Cassandra could feel. Looking at her now, in those irises that the Seeker knew to be as deep and blue as the Amaranthine Sea, it was something she wanted.

Unable to resist any longer, Nox bent down and kissed Cassandra’s lips gently and smiled as the Seeker pushed back and stole her breath.

“Is this one of the customs one does when attempting to woo a lady of Ostwick?” Cassandra asked, breaking from the kiss. She still kept Nox close, her hazel eyes dancing mischievously.

“No,” Nox admitted with a blush.

“Mhmm,” Cassandra replied. “Perhaps we should adhere to tradition if we are to do this the right way, as you put it. However, it is proper in Nevarra for a gentlewoman to see to an injured lady back to her wagon—and before you do anything, if you pick me up, I will hurt you severely.”

Nox smiled and took Cassandra’s arm, leading her back to her bed roll. “Maybe when you haven’t been stepped on by a giant.”

“No...no picking me up ever.”

“Is that a Nevarran custom? No picking up Cassandra?”

“Yes: On Pain Of Death Shall One Pick Up Cassandra. It’s an ancient one.”

“You look good for Ancient,” Nox joked and laughed as she was swatted.

Still not entirely sure if the events of today were real or still trapped in a nightmare, Nox Trevelyan and Cassandra Pentaghast journeyed back to the wagon, taking one slow step at a time into what promised to be a bright, unexpected future.


End file.
